The Diamond Jubilee in NOLA's Sazerac Bar: A Mystery in Silver

Exactly seventy-five years ago, I wouldn’t have been allowed to set foot in this bar. It wasn’t until the famous “Stormin’ of the Sazerac” in 1949 that women first demanded entrance to this dimly lit lounge tucked inside the storied Roosevelt Hotel in New Orleans. At the time, the bar enforced a longstanding policy that excluded women—reflecting the deeply ingrained social norms of the era. Bars like this one were considered male-only spaces, where business was conducted, cigars were smoked, and women were expected to remain at the fringes—if not outside entirely.

NEW ORLEANS' ANGELO BROCATO NEARBY: A FADED ENTRANCE THAT RECALLS A TIME WHEN ESTABLISHMENTS WERE BLATANTLY DIVIDED BY GENDER —AND OFTEN BY RACE. PHOTO: ©ALLOYALIST

But on that day in 1949, a group of determined women in pretty fabulous hats (can we please bring back the brim hat?), walked in together and ordered Sazeracs in protest. Their defiance cracked open the (literal) door to change—not just here, but in countless other rooms where women had long been unwelcome. Today marks the Diamond Jubilee—seventy-five years since that bold act of rebellion. Yet as patrons sip their drinks and go about their day, the occasion seems to slip by unnoticed.

A PHOTO OF THE 1949 “STORMIN’ OF THE SAZERAC” STILL HANGS IN THE SAZERAC BAR’S LOBBY, UNFORTUNATELY, WITHOUT ATTRIBUTION.

Behind the bar is an enormous, gleaming vessel with bulbous curves, and I wonder if it might be some kind of trophy commemorating this momentus event in women's history. At first glance, the piece looks like a champagne chiller (those who "know" are now clutching their pearls with that thought) or perhaps another grand work of sterling holloware. But contrary to the way many online descriptions suggested it was "tucked away," the piece was anything but subtle—its commanding presence demanded attention. Then again, its easy to get lost in such a fabulously ornamented room.

NEW ORLEAN'S SAZERAC BAR TODAY. PHOTO: ©ALLOYALIST

A dear friend of mine—an expert in unearthing the world’s most fantastic cocktail bars—wasn’t sure what the metal vessel was, but he pointed out the murals surrounding us. According to him, they depicted the very moment women were first allowed into the bar. The scene pulsed with energy: figures in motion, dresses swirling, jazz drifting down from above. He’d heard the story years ago at Tales of the Cocktail, New Orleans’ premier (and famously multi-day) cocktail event. I don’t blame him for getting it wrong, though—by day three, even the best timelines can start to blur.

THE MYSTERIOUS SILVER VESSEL BEHIND THE BAR; MURALS BY PAUL NINAS INSIDE THE SAZERAC BAR. PHOTOS: ©ALLOYALIST

The history of the Sazerac Bar runs deep. The moody murals, painted by Paul Ninas in 1938, actually predate the "Stormin’ of the Sazerac." Women weren’t officially allowed into the bar until September 26th, 1949—over a decade after the art was completed. So, while they don’t actually depict the historic moment when women forced their way in, they still capture the spirit of the era. One of the murals even portrays a lively scene, supposedly Jackson Square during Mardi Gras, featuring recognizable figures like J.P. Morgan and Jean Harlow. Real or imagined, these characters blend history and art, much like the setting I find myself in. Thank you, Google.

But the evening deepens—along with my declining attention span (something we probably share right about now)—and the real mystery lies in that silver vessel. I take a seat at the bar, directly in front of it, and the metalsmith in me can’t help but lean in. The repoussé forms and chased details are spectacular—someone spent serious time on this. I’m still sober enough to question why this seemingly English trophy is proudly displayed in such a historically American bar. A nearby plaque offers some answers:

THE ASCOT CUP, A SYMBOL OF EQUESTRIAN PRESTIGE AND ARISTOCRATIC TRADITION. PHOTOS: ©ALLOYALIST

"Ascot Cup 1878, Won by Count DeLagrange's Verneful, Beating Lord Falmouth's Lady Golightly. This was the last silver cup made for this race, Weight 1232 ozs."

That’s when things start to get interesting. I don’t recognize any of the names, so I let Google be my friend again. A bit of digging reveals that it was Verneuil—not Verneful—who won the 1878 Ascot Cup. Lord Falmouth’s horse, Sylvio, came in second, and Lady Golightly wasn’t even in that race. She ran in the Ascot Gold Vase, a separate event.

The confusion, it seems, stems from the fact that 1878 was the last year the Ascot Cup was made in silver before it transitioned to a gold alloy. The truth of the matter unraveled like a strand of pearls, thanks to some deep-diving into The New York Times archives. Fortunately, the bar’s surprisingly speedy Wi-Fi made it all possible (and seriously, how incredible is it that we can summon scans of almost 150-year-old newspapers in minutes?).

INTERIOR OF THE ROOSEVELT HOTEL IN NEW ORLEANS. PHOTO: ©ALLOYALIST

The 1878 Ascot Cup, featuring artistic themes envisioned by Queen Victoria and, fittingly, the bar's gilded entrance, was crafted by the esteemed London silversmith firm Garrard & Co. Known as the "Crown Jewellers", Garrard & Co. gained a reputation for its exceptional craftsmanship and served as the official jeweler to the British royal family. This cup was notable for being the last of the Ascot trophies made in silver, signaling the end of an era before the transition to gold—and it certainly went out with a bang, weighing in at nearly 80 pounds of fine silver! The intricate detailing and exquisite ornamentation showcase the high standards and elegance associated with Garrard's legacy, making it not just a symbol of sporting achievement but also a true work of art.

INTERIOR OF THE ROOSEVELT HOTEL; DETAIL OF THE 1878 ASCOT CUP. PHOTOS: ©ALLOYALIST

So how did this magnificent piece of English history end up in New Orleans? In 1938, The Roosevelt Hotel acquired the Ascot Cup to honor its illustrious past, filled with visits from royalty, presidents, and celebrities. While the script might have some facts mixed up, the cup remains a symbol of the Roosevelt’s grandeur and a reminder of the deep connections between American and British histories.

And now, as I sit back with my Sazerac, I can’t help but wonder—who’s going to correct that plaque? I came for a cocktail and found myself deep in a moment of women’s history—while questioning the provenance of a rando Victorian silver vessel. Because apparently, I can’t just have a drink like a normal person. I suppose If you’re clear-headed enough to spot the incorrectly documented history, you’re probably overdue for another round. The bar may be famous for its cocktails, but the real intoxicant for me? A well-placed mystery in a beautiful room with a twist of fast Wi-Fi.

When To Go and How to Get There

Housed within the historic NOLA Roosevelt Hotel at 130 Roosevelt Way, the Sazerac Bar is as iconic as the cocktail it’s named for. Whether you're here for the mahogany bar, the Paul Ninas murals, or to commemorate the women who stormed in 60 years ago, timing is everything.

Best times to visit:

• Weekday afternoons (especially Tuesday–Thursday) are your best bet for a quiet seat and a full experience.
• Arrive around 4:00 to 5:00 PM to settle in before the post-work crowd filters in. The energy shifts as the evening unfolds—more lively but never rowdy.

Happy Hour:

• While there’s no formal happy hour, the well-trained bartenders make sure every pour feels celebratory.
• The signature Sazerac is always worth the splurge—though I have a soft spot for the French 75, a drink with deep roots in New Orleans' cocktail canon and just enough sparkle to match the city’s charm.

Getting there:

• Just a few blocks from the French Quarter, the bar is easily reached on foot or by streetcar.
• If you’re coming from Uptown or the Garden District, rideshares will drop you right at the hotel entrance—just walk past the gilded lobby to the bar on the left. IYKYK.